


Lay Me Down

by kirschtrash



Series: Musical Musings [7]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst and Feels, Comfort/Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Excessive Drinking, Hurt/Comfort, Im sorry for this i didnt mean it to be sad, Inspired by Music, M/M, Pining, Pining Oikawa Tooru, Post-Break Up, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 03:29:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7996984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirschtrash/pseuds/kirschtrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"Can I lay by your side?</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Next to you, you</em>
  <br/>
  <em>And make sure you're alright</em>
  <br/>
  <em>I'll take care of you</em>
  <br/>
  <em>I don't want to be here if I can't be with you tonight."</em>
</p><p>- Sam Smith, 'Lay Me Down'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lay Me Down

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for 200 followers on Twitter! Take this as a little gift!
> 
> [Here's my [Tumblr](http://kirschtrash.tumblr.com) and [Twitter!](https://mobile.twitter.com/kirschtrash)]

_[Listen to this for the feel](http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=HaMq2nn5ac0) _

 

* * *

 

 

The sky was just a large expanse of grey, grey clouds, stretching as far as the eye could see - or well, as far as the tall buildings towering around him permitted him to see. They stood like metropolitan giants, dwarfing simpler homes and residences underneath their shadows. They surrounded their narrow streets so thickly, that sometimes it would be all that he could see, no matter where he turned.

Oikawa stopped at the edge of the footpath, his hands tucked into his pockets. Cars whizzed past him like grey blurs, their blaring horns dimming out the constant chatter of civilians. He tilted his head, and looked up at the endless sky. He sniffed at the air, once, twice. _It’ll rain soon. Any moment now_.

But before the first drop of rain could fall, his cellphone started to vibrate in his pocket.

He slid it open swiftly, not bothering to look at the caller’s ID. His gaze fixed on a lone bird flying across the dark sky, he pressed his cellphone against his ear. An automatic, chirpy greeting was just at the tip of his tongue, when he heard someone croak from the other line first:

“Is-is this Oikawa…?”

The tone of the caller’s voice caught him off guard, more so when he realised who it was. “I-iwa-chan?”

“I got a question f’you.”

Quirking an eyebrow, Oikawa asked, “Y-yeah…?”

“You- you're good a’ Psychology, huh?”

Oikawa’s mind went blank for a moment. He wasn’t sure what caught him off guard: the ridiculously vague question he asked without even the slightest of motive, or that unavoidable slur in his words, a haziness he knew too well? It was almost as if he were…

“Are you- are you _drunk_ , Iwaizumi?”

But he didn’t answer that. “Well? D’ya?”

Stuttering, Oikawa shook his head. “I, uh, I guess-”

“Then d’you know people? D’you… d’you know how people work?”

“God, you _are_ drunk, aren’t you?”

“Answer my fuckin’ question, Trashykawa.”

“Iwa-chan,” he sighed, as he started moving forward. “No amount of curses are gonna help you right now-”

“Answer me, _please_.”

The words hit him hard. He fell silent, but he didn’t stop walking, though. Feet slapped against the pavement beneath him, as grey as the sky. But he couldn’t stop biting his lip, couldn’t stop worrying about what Iwaizumi was asking, what he wanted to know, what he meant. His words were simple, but his tone held this urgency he had never quite seen in him ever before. He could have sworn he felt his voice quiver, even through his cellphone. It only served to scare Oikawa more - what happened to him so suddenly?

But he was still waiting for his answer. Licking his lips, he said, “Yes. I guess… I guess I know how they work. Why do you ask?”

There was silence from the other line. All he could here was faint, white noise, like a soft rustling only the quiet could bring. The longer it stayed, the faster Oikawa walked. The longer it persisted, the harder his heart slammed against his chest. And as the silent moments slipped by, panic threatened to undo him.

Suddenly, he felt something small, something wet fall on his cheek. That was when he heard Iwaizumi ask:

“Why d’ya think bad things happen to good people?”

The rain began to pour.

Oikawa cursed to himself as the rain soaked him from head to toe in less than a minute. He had no choice; wordlessly, he ended their short call abruptly, stuffing his cellphone in his bag before it perished. After that, nothing stopped him - he ran.

Breaths heaving, and heart pounding, he ran down the street, dodging past strangers that only shot him strange, obscure stares and glares. The rain kept falling hard, and didn’t seem to want to lessen. Swerving himself, he turned to his left, entering a narrower, emptier lane. Feet splashed within overflowing puddles, and his clothes were properly soaked by then. But he was close - he couldn’t stop.

Iwaizumi was never one to drink, not frequently, at least. Not so deeply, either. But the way his words slurred within his speech clearly proved how properly wasted he might have been. Even that didn’t bother him, not so much as the unknown reason why he chose to drink so much in the first place. _What made him do this?_ was all he could think, as he wiped his hair out of his eyes, panting hard. What made him lose himself to alcohol so suddenly? Why did he ask such a question?

 _Why, why, why_. It was all he could think, all he could process as he ran. Finally, he let himself sigh in relief as he spotted a black door made of metal not too far from him. Grabbing at the handle, he wrenched it open. The rust-eaten hinges screamed in protest, but Oikawa couldn’t care; slipping through the gap, he took the stairs two at a time, rushing higher and higher.

After climbing four floors, he finally stopped before a brown door. He was panting hard, as he caught his breath. _Before that door, I’ll see Iwaizumi,_ he thought. _But in what state?_

Biting his lip, he lifted his knuckle, brought it forward, and moved to knock on the door twice - but the door fell ajar on the first knock. _Creak_. A little bit of the dying light from outside flooded in, cutting through the sheer darkness inside. The door had been open all this while, he confirmed. Did someone break in…?

Forgetting his manners in desperation, he opened the door wider, and wider still. Darkness was the only thing he could see at first, but as the light outside rushed inside, he could make out the dirty dishes in the sink, the tablecloth on top of the tiny kitchen table dragged a little too much from one side, and one chair sprawled on the floor. When he stepped inside, he could see a man on the floor, back pressed against the sofa. The man held a glass bottle in one hand, and with the other…

… he used to balance a wooden spoon on the palm of his hand.

No sight had ever given him that kind of relief in his entire life.

The sigh he let out must have been loud and long, for the man tipped his head, and looked up. Though the drunken haze blinding his eyes was thick, there was enough of that steeliness in them - a steeliness only one person could have.  
Iwaizumi blinked at him once, twice, before training his focus back at balancing the spoon on his hand.

“And here I thought you were gonna do something you’d regret,” Oikawa said to all but himself, as he closed the door with his foot. When he locked it up, he asked, “Why was this door open just now?”

He didn’t expect his friend to reply that quick: “I musta forgotten…”  
He looked back at Oikawa, and squinted through the darkness. “Why’d y’come here?”

“Because you called,” he answered.

“I called ‘cause I asked a question.”

“And I came because you’re drunk as fuck.”

He scoffed. “Am not.”

Oikawa didn’t even need to assert his opinion, not when his voice slurred so much, not when Iwaizumi was still too busy trying to defy the laws of physics by keeping the spoon erect over his hand. Instead, he sighed. Throwing his hands in the air, he said, “Well, couldn’t be helped! I had to come either way. Gotta keep you from causing any trouble.”

“Wha’ trouble could I possibly cause?” Iwaizumi slurred from his seat on the floor, pointing the spoon at him.

Setting the chair on the floor upright again, he smiled to himself. Teasing, he said, “Oh, nothing much - maybe mass homicide in a fit of rage, but that could be me overthinking it!”

Iwaizumi only snorted before taking a swig from the bottle, hissing right after swallowing. Oikawa couldn’t help but wince, as he set the table cloth straight on the table. Shrugging his dripping jacket off, he hung it over a spare chair. He ruffled his hair, already soaking wet. After running his fingers through them, he realised how the apartment had fallen silent once again. He dared a peek at Iwaizumi.

He was still sitting with his back against the sofa, his legs still splayed on the floor, and one hand still grasped at the bottle’s neck tight, as if it were the only real thing he had. As if it were the only thing that mattered.  
Seeing a man as steady as Iwaizumi lose his way like that… it really bothered Oikawa.

Casually, he strolled towards his friend. It wasn’t as if he had never dealt with a drunken Iwaizumi before. But seeing him like _this_ was definitely a first. That didn’t mean he was going to back out, though. That was never an option.

As he approached him, he weighed his options, his tactics; he could confront the situation openly, simply ask him _’what happened?’_ or _‘what’s wrong?’_. But there was something in the silence that made him think differently. It didn’t feel like an average drunken day - a little _time out_ , as they say. No, when he finally stopped before Iwaizumi, he could feel the melancholy thick in the air. This was something much, much different. Much more dire.

Wordlessly, he sat down across from Iwaizumi. When he did, he eyed the two other empty bottles rolled out beside the sofa so conspicuously, Oikawa didn’t even notice them the first time. He quirked an eyebrow at that sight, his teeth biting his lip.

It was as if he had heard him think that. As the spoon clattered on the floor, he broke the silence: “What can I say? I got an extreme thirst.”

Oikawa ended up smiling, as Iwaizumi let out a drunken laugh. _He never quite had that kind of humor when he was sober,_ he had to admit. Picking the spoon up once more, Iwaizumi wordlessly began his quest to fight common sense once more.

Oikawa silently watched him for a while, looking at the way he’d place the edge of the spoon on the flat of his palm, and then make it stand there like some work of magic. It would only last for two seconds, before his slowed reaction time got the better of him. Within moments, the spoon would clatter to the ground, and the annoyance would be plain on his face. He’d let out a _tsk,_ he’d swear under his breath - but he’d pick up the spoon all the same.

When the entire process had repeated itself five times, Oikawa realised something. Iwaizumi was purposely doing this. It wasn’t as if he wanted to be alone, or wanted Oikawa away - he just didn’t want to talk about it.

It was then that he broke the silence: “This won’t work, y’know.”

“Patience always y-yields results, dunnit?” he countered, as he placed the spoon on his palm again. This time, it didn’t even last a second. It just slammed against the floor again.

When Iwaizumi swore, Oikawa took the chance to pick the spoon up himself.

“Don’t blame the world. Blame the alcohol,” he chirped, as he went on to balance the spoon on his own hand for a solid ten seconds.  
The sight must have bothered Iwaizumi a lot, for he only rolled his eyes, and took another deep, deep swig from his drink.

Oikawa seized the chance again. Grabbing the spoon from the ground, he asked, “So, what’s happening?”

“Nothin’s happening,” he answered. “Why’d y’ask?”

Oikawa met Iwaizumi’s bloodshot gaze, and shrugged. “Well, because it seems to me that it’s a little more than that.”

Iwaizumi didn’t balk. He didn’t swear, he didn’t rage, he didn’t fight it. He only let out a long, tired sigh. Looking off to the side, he said, “Yeah… yr’not wrong there.”

Humming, Oikawa let the silence resume itself for a little while. He was twirling the wooden spoon around his slender fingers, as he bit the bitter bullet:

“What about your boyfriend? Did he try to help solve your problem?”

“He is th’ problem. Well… he _was_.”

Oikawa stopped himself. Slowly, he looked at Iwaizumi. The words he heard were solid, true, undeniable. The words he spoke were all but a whisper:

“Iwa-chan…? What happened?”

Iwaizumi didn’t reply for a few still moments. He turned his head to his right, gazing out of the window. The downpour had morphed into a storm, as thunder began to roll and rumble in the distance. Rain slammed against the glass hard, flowing down like a waterfall. You could see nothing else beyond that - nothing but a grey, blurry world.  
But Iwaizumi could see something, something he was too intent to focus on. Maybe it wasn’t something at all - maybe it was just a long lost memory nobody else could notice, nobody but him. Maybe he was remembering it all, just for the sake of forgetting.

After what felt like forever, he licked his lips. And then, like alcohol flowing out of the bottle to drown one’s sorrows, he spilled out everything: how his boyfriend - who once said that he loved him to the moon and back - turned out to be a cheater. He told him how he found him in this very apartment, sprawled over the sofa, on top of a very naked girl.  
He told him how they fought after that; how they shouted so loud that the walls shook with all the rage, and how his boyfriend justified all that he did, just by one fucking label - that he just didn’t love Iwaizumi anymore. He told him how he had kicked him out of his life after that, just as he should have. But the pain didn’t leave. It refused to.

The words tumbled out of his mouth uncontrollably, but his tone was dangerously still, too robotic to call his. It was still so as he continued:  
“ _’I had to do it’_ he had said. _’I don’t love you - no’ the way I love her’_.” After a small pause, he barked a poor, humourless laugh. “Is that fuck’d up or what?”

Oikawa was rendered speechless for the second time, now. Silence clad the cramped apartment like a thick veil, and Oikawa didn’t know how to pierce through it. How could he say something that might make his best friend feel better, take away the ache he might have been harboring inside himself, and replace it with peace? He didn’t want to say something insensitive, but then he didn’t want Iwaizumi to simmer in all the pain, all the sadness, and all that regret. He didn’t want him to crumble alone.

The only thing he could say was, “Why… why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Iwaizumi surprised him with a humorless snort. “Would it make any difference?” The unblinking stare he gave next spoke the words he couldn’t say out loud: _I’d hurt either way, wouldn’t I?_

Oikawa made himself smirk. He dropped the spoon beside him, and leaned forward to grab the bottle from his friend. He didn’t seem to show much reluctance, as he let it slip away from his fingers. Oikawa rested back again, this time crossing his legs beneath him.

Lifting the bottle as a form of toast, he professed, “Well, for one thing, you didn’t have to drink alone.”

Then, he took a gulp himself. It seared against his throat like wildfire. His eyes watering, he coughed and hissed. _And he chose the strongest alcohol he could pick,_ he couldn’t help but wonder. Was the pain that demanding?

Iwaizumi laughed at that, his voice throaty and broken and sore, but otherwise his. He let his head fall back, slumping against the sofa, as he stared at the ceiling.

“Y’re true there,” he sighed, “Two’s better than one, huh?”

Another breath of drunken laughter left him, and then he continued:

“But really, I… I didn’ want you t’see me like this.”

Oikawa wanted to stand up, then. He wanted to grab Iwaizumi by his shoulders, shake him awake, and tell him that he shouldn’t have hesitated like that. He shouldn’t have hidden away, afraid that he might have faced rejection. He didn’t want him to be afraid of showing his own vulnerability.   
If anything, Oikawa yearned for that; he wanted to see Iwaizumi trust him enough to let his walls crumble, strip himself of wards and guards, and let him in. Iwaizumi had seen Oikawa’s monstrous sides, his darkest facets, all his true faces. Oikawa wanted to do the same. Ever since he had fallen for his best friend, he couldn’t help but want that kind of intimacy.

But instead, he sighed himself. He suppressed those urges, those unkept feelings, locking them up deep in his chest - just as he had done countless of times before. Instead of letting his dam break, he turned his head to stare out of the window. The rain didn’t stop falling, but the sky had darkened to a pitch black. It had grown late. He couldn’t possibly make it back to his own house, not with how it was raining cats and dogs outside. And besides, he couldn’t leave Iwaizumi. Not like that.

He did stand up after that, dumping the alcohol down the kitchen sink. When he came back, he was dusting his hands, and Iwaizumi was squinting at him rather suspiciously.

“Wha’dya do that for?”

“That’s more than enough alcohol for one day, Mister. You're thoroughly wasted anyway.”

He scoffed, then. “Don’t ya ‘Mister’ me.”

But Oikawa didn’t listen to him, as he clapped his hands. “Well, then. I guess it's time you rested.”

The squint turned into a wide-eyed stare. “What are you, my mom?"

“Judging by the condition you’re in, I have to be.”

“Fuc’-off.”

“You can’t even swear properly, Iwa-chan-”

“I said I don’t need t’rest!”

The burst of anger had just enough venom in it to make Oikawa back off a little. The surprise must have been evident, for Iwaizumi winced.

And then, he surrendered with a sigh. “‘Kay, fine. I’ll rest.”

Oikawa couldn’t hide his happiness, to which Iwaizumi only told him to _’quit cooin' like some mother hen!’_. With the grace of a baby giraffe, he lifted himself and stood on his feet - well, not without wobbling dangerously. With quick reflexes, Oikawa crossed the distance between them, and grabbed Iwaizumi by the shoulders.  
Slowly, surely, he wound one arm around his sturdy waist, all the while wounding his other arm around his shoulder. As he led him to his bedroom, he couldn’t help but feel his presence beside him. Even when he was on the verge of breaking, there was always some solidity to him, a reassuring weight he could practically feel beneath his fingers. And even when his lover left him cold and despairing, there was a warmth that never stopped emanating from him, a kind of searing heat that was almost addicting. Oikawa couldn’t help but smile.

(He didn't dare look into his eyes, however. He knew that once he stared at him so intently, so closely, then he’d end up falling for him harder than before; he knew that he’d fall down a hole he was already so deep in. And this time, he wouldn't want to leave.)

 

After a while arguing back and forth, Oikawa managed to convince Iwaizumi to wash himself up a bit. _‘Why do I gotta do that? It’s not as if someone’s g’nna sniff me!’_ Iwaizumi had countered, but Oikawa refused to relent, stressing that he didn’t want him to smell like a dog. That must have worked, for he turned around, and stomped into the bathroom - well, not without grumbling a string of drunken curses.

That took only five minutes, after which he emerged a little fresher, and much more aromatic. He was changing into lighter clothes, as Oikawa turned the other way, giving his friend the privacy he needed. All the while, the rain made a queer sort of drumming sound against the window pane, like a thousand men marching to battle. If that were so, then the thunder might have been their warcry.

Just as the sky roared for war, Oikawa heard Iwaizumi speak:

“Will you… will you leave?”

It had grown darker still. The rain refused to stop. Even if he were to walk back to his home…

He then turned around. Licking his lips, he asked Iwaizumi, “Do you want me to?”

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to say it like that - but he had to know.

Iwaizumi shook his head.

Oikawa smiled softly. “Then I’ll stay.”

His friend nodded, chewing on his lip. Wordlessly, he trudged towards his bed, flopping on top of it, belly first, like a fish. Giggling a little, he did the same, except he landed right on his back, a soft _oomph_ escaping his lips.  
His eyes were tracing the faint cracks on the ceiling, when a memory struck him like a bolt of lightning.

“Hey, Iwa-chan.”

A grumble came from beside him - a questioning one.

“Does this remind you of something?” Turning his head to his left, he pressed again. “D’you remember?”

Iwaizumi lifted his head, arching his eyebrow at Oikawa confusedly. But then, both of his eyebrows shot up, and he started laughing.  
“Oh, I remember,” he said, resting his face on his side, eyes still staring at him. But this time, there was mirth glittering within them.

Oikawa couldn’t help but grin. He remembered. How could they forget? It was a fond memory; a memory from years ago, when the both of them had been young, foolish boys. It had been a rainy day, just like this one, and the way the rain refused to stop had somehow convinced the both of them to spend one whole night together. With giddy giggles and beaming smiles, they stayed huddled beneath their sheets. But they did not dare to speak loudly, afraid of shattering their own little world - a world that the two boys ruled for themselves.

Oikawa grinned widely, as he recalled, “God, do you remember? We had this- this flashlight we’d use beneath the sheets-”

“-and we’d try t’make those shadow puppets…”

“Iwa-chan, both of us knew I’d make the best shadow puppets!”

“Yeah, well- I scared y’r ass many times when I’d make scary faces - admit that!”

Comically, he shuddered all over. “Don’t even remind me of those, man. They still haunt me. You’ve scarred me,” he pouted, to which Iwaizumi chuckled, his somewhat throaty laughter successfully dimming out the sound of rain slamming against the windows.

After that, he hummed to himself he crossed his arms then, nestling his face on top of them. His cheek flat against his forearm, he wondered out loud: “Damn, that had been… crazy. Did we even sleep that night?”

“Apparently, we had stayed up all night, sharing these ridiculous spooky stories.”

“Ah, yeah - I remember holdin' y’r hand when I told y’the Bloody Mary story.”

Oikawa spluttered, more so when he realised that Iwaizumi was not wrong there. He even went so far as to confess how Oikawa had _‘made a vow never to enter any bathroom ever again’_. Defensively, he swatted at his shoulder, grumbling about him _’always being so mean’_. He expected Iwaizumi to hiss in response, or roll his eyes in mockery. He expected him to laugh, to smile again.

But instead, Iwaizumi sighed. A wistful one, it was; as if he were trying hard to grasp at the faded memories lost within the fabric of time, trying to breathe life and purpose back into them. His eyes were glazed with nostalgia, too, as if he were too busy living in the past.

“Where did all o’that go?” he breathed. His eyebrows scrunched in worry, in confusion, as he continued, “Why can’t we just… just hold those kinds of memories? Hold them in our palms so that they don’t go away, s’ that they don’t just… fade. We never- never realise how valuable those kindsa things are for us, an’ when we do - well, ‘s too late by then. All of that- that beauty’s just gone forever, and it fuckin’ sucks. Why’s it gotta be that way?”

Oikawa was rendered speechless. How could anyone answer a question like that? How could someone try and hold a memory, refusing to let it slip by like a speck of dust floating in the wind? How could someone just know when to love a moment in time, and when to hold on? How could anyone know why the world couldn’t work like that?

He couldn’t come up with a reply, not straight away. Just as the rain fell outside, silence fell inside the room. When it persisted for a few more heartbeats, he shifted his gaze back towards the ceiling. His eyes were tracing those cracks once more, cracks and crevices that stretched onwards like the gnarled fingers of a skeleton. There was no light, except for the small lamp hanging in the corner of the room, shedding everything with a warm glow, but even that would flicker from time to time. Thunder rumbled on and on like the growls of a hungry beast, ready to devour.

Then there was a flash of lightning. A crack - and then a boom.

And then it came to him.

“Maybe the reason why we can’t hold onto memories is because they’re just not meant to be held?” he whispered. He found his voice again, speaking louder: “Maybe… maybe they’re meant to fade, so that we can never look at them again. Maybe the world doesn’t want you to hold on - it wants you to let go.”

 _Did that sound too clichéd?_ he couldn't help but wonder. Did that even make sense?  
Biting his lip, he slowly turned to look at Iwaizumi, preparing himself for the worst - and the most embarrassing - reaction he could get.

But instead, he only saw his best friend with his eyes shut close, and his mouth open around the softest of snores. From the way his breaths were so deep, so even and measured, he was sure that Iwaizumi was indeed asleep.

Oikawa didn’t even have it in himself to be mad. How could he? He could only imagine the huge weight on his chest, a heaviness he tried so hard to lift with one too many swigs of alcohol. Having been holed up in his apartment all day, without a glimmer of either sunlight or hope, harboring all that hatred and anger and heartache… it must have been exhausting. It must have been tiring.

 _Having your partner fall out of love is one thing_ , he thought, a lump of emotions forming in his throat. _But learning that they might have never loved you in the first place is something quite different._

He tried to undo that knot clogging his throat, as he glanced at his friend again. His eyebrows that were so fond of scrunching themselves at the center of his forehead were now undone, making him look peaceful. There were dark circles underneath his eyes, revealing the whole weight of things he wanted to forget, but his eyelids were glued shut. His dark eyelashes cast shadows against his cheekbones, too. No lines marked his skin, either.  
If someone looked at him like this, they might have never realised that he was not okay. Nobody would have guessed that his heart was aching.

 _But he’s always been like that._ And it was true; Iwaizumi has always masked his weaknesses, hid them behind fake smiles and plastic laughter. He never liked that sort of vulnerability. _Emotions are to be dealt with alone_ , he would believe. _Why should anyone have to share them?_

But then, that never stopped him from helping out Oikawa. His philosophy never kept him from reaching out and caring for him when he couldn’t do it himself. He never hesitated when it came to handling Oikawa’s broken pieces, with jagged, razor-sharp edges that sliced the skin when dealt with clumsily; and he most certainly never gave up, not until he had fixed Oikawa, making him whole, complete, and so much more invincible.

Although Iwaizumi didn’t like revealing his brokenness to other, he always helped healing others’.

It amazed Oikawa. It amazed him, fascinated him - and it bothered him.

It bothered him, because he didn’t want Iwaizumi to deal with it all by himself. He didn’t want him to think that he had to be the one to throw his pain behind a veil, and become too invested in saving others. He wanted to break that philosophy of his; he wanted to shatter it into tiny pieces, and insist to him that _you don’t have to do this on your own_. Because he didn’t have to be alone.

Oikawa wanted to care for Iwaizumi, just like he’d care for him. He wanted to heal his pain, wipe his tears away, and fix his broken pieces up. He might not be good at it - he had too many misplaced shards of his own to carry around someone else’s. But God, he wanted to try.

 _Boom_. A clap of thunder shook the entire world, wrenching Oikawa out of his state of reverie with a gasp. He hadn’t realised how dark it had gotten in the room. He couldn’t even see Iwaizumi anymore, his being shrouded in darkness. Instinctively, he nudged himself closer to his friend, and closer still. He didn’t stop shifting until he could make out the sharp angle of his jaw cutting through the darkness, and the slope of his nose giving way to the sliver of light. He focused on the way his breaths were so even, so timely on their own; it smelled faintly of vodka, mingled with the minty scent of toothpaste, but he didn’t mind. He silently tucked one hand beneath his cheek, sandwiched between his face and the pillow; the other sat vacant in the center, lying still in the expanse between the two of them.

Oikawa was treading on dangerous grounds. Laying so close to the one person he could ever love, feeling his heat and presence next to him, so real and demanding… It wouldn’t be long before he’d fall down that hole, and never climb out.

Just then, a whisper cut through the silence:

“Oikawa…?”

“Y-yeah?”

Silence. And then: “Y’still haven’t answered my question.”

His voice was dimmer than a whisper, merely a breath. But the words were crystal clear. The intent underneath was more so - _why do bad things happen to good people?_ he wanted to ask.

Oikawa glanced back at the ceiling, gnawing away at his lower lip. How could he answer that question? Yeah, he studied psychology; he studied the way the human mind works, and how that could shape their conduct and everyday lives. He studied human nature, and studied it quite well. But how could something so trivial give reason to the cruel ways of the world?

“I- I think your question’s wrong.”

The bed creaked, as he shifted. “Huh?”

Licking his lips, Oikawa pressed on, “I said, I think your question’s wrong. You're asking why bad things happen to good people - that’s like asking why earthquakes happen all over the world; there is no reason why it happens, it just… does. And the countries hit by them, they just aren’t that lucky. What you're asking is why… why bad people hurt the ones who don’t deserve it?”

Iwaizumi shifts beside him, stiffening like a plank. Even in the darkness, he could feel that steeliness set deep within his bones. _Jackpot_.

“Well,” Oikawa continued, “that’s because bad people don’t have anything better to do. They know they're rotten, so they think, _’hey, if I make good people feel bad, then I won’t be the only one feeling like shit. Then I can feel better about myself.’_ ”  
The rain kept on battering against the window, the rivulets casting queer shadows across the room. He gazed at the streaks of running water. “Maybe that’s why bad people like your boyf- I mean, your ex - liked hurting good people. They make themselves feel better like that. And before you know it, they’ve lost someone… someone really special.”

It was only a matter of moments before Oikawa realized what he had just spoken out loud. Did he just say that without thinking it through-

Heat flooded his cheeks and crept up his neck as thoughts whizzed past his mind at a thousand miles per second. He was almost as afraid of glancing back at him as he was embarrassed-

But then, he heard a soft sniffle.

That made him turn his head slowly, and it was then that he saw Iwaizumi; he was curled in himself, hands pressed against his chest, and his head ducked down. This way, he was blanketed in complete darkness. You could see nothing of him - well, except for the dampness in his eyes. They glistened.

When Oikawa edged close, he could see how he had stiffened himself so much it felt as if he were made of wood. When he came closer, he could feel how he quivered, despite trying to solidify every bit of his emotions. When he placed his hand on his shoulder, fingers gripping him hard, he could tell how he was trying so hard not to undo himself. He could see how his dams were near cracking.

Oikawa wanted to help the one person he loved. He might not be the best at it; with too many of his own emotions gone red and raw, he might not be good at healing others.

(But he was willing to try.)

He pulled Iwaizumi close, and closer still, till there was only a breath’s distance remaining between the two. That was all that was needed.

With a hesitance that almost resembled shyness, he pressed his forehead against Oikawa’s shoulder. And as the thunder rolled on outside, he let his dams break.

Sobs wracked his entire body hard, as he shook and shivered with every breath he took. With a grip like iron, he balled his fists into Oikawa’s shirt, and kept on repeating one thing: “why, why, why - why me?”  _Why me? Why do I have to hurt? Why can’t I be loved?_

He yelled those words out loud, screamed them at the top of his lungs, cried them out with each shaky sob, and whispered them against his skin. His tears clung to his skin, the wetness now pooling in his shirt, but Oikawa only wound his arms tight around his shoulders. He couldn’t care, not when he had his best friend breaking like this. Not when he held someone so precious in his arms.

He hugged him hard against his chest, and whispered comforting words into his ears, allowing his sobs to reduce to mild whimpers. He ran his fingers through his hair, and even used them to wipe his tears away, until his friend had exhausted all of his sadness through tears. When his short, shaky breaths had evened out into deep, measured breaths, he almost let his own dams break - he almost undid all of his own suppressed emotions.

But he swallowed that urge down his throat. He kicked those unruly feelings away, warding them off with all his might. He couldn’t become that selfish, and beg for something else, something more - he couldn’t.  
And so, he let Iwaizumi rest. He let him heal in his arms. As he pressed his cheek against his forehead, he felt his warmth beside him, and felt himself smile. _This is enough._

He knew he was touching dangerous waters. Holding the person he loved but could never have in his arms like this, and helping him heal his brokenness - it was bound to hurt him one way or another. Dealing with shards of glass was tricky, after all.  
But when it came to someone like Iwaizumi - well, he didn’t mind the pain.

 

* * *

 

 

Next morning, Iwaizumi experienced the worst hangover he had ever had in his entire life. After he was done spending half an hour in the bathroom vomiting and then dry heaving some more, he profusely apologized Oikawa for making him stay the entire night. As always, he waved a hand at that; the rain couldn’t let him reach home safely by the time he came to his house, so he had no choice.

“And besides,” he added, smirking, “I couldn’t leave a drunken Iwaizumi alone, not when I had an idea how shit-faced he’d become.”

Iwaizumi, having no real energy to assault Oikawa directly, only rolled his eyes and mumbled something unintelligible - yet venomous - underneath his breath. Oikawa made sure he had the medicine he needed, before readying himself to leave.  
The sun was out at last, the thick beams of sunshine falling inside the cozy apartments, lighting up everything in its wake. He was glad the rain was finally over; a bright, sunny day gave him the chance to look forward to something again, this time more hopefully.

As he shrugged on his jacket, now as dry as he had worn it first, he heard Iwaizumi cough. Turning around, he saw him leaning over a stove, with his back towards him, and a blanket still hanging from his shoulders. Oikawa had half a mind to break the stale silence with a humorous comment, until he heard Iwaizumi speak:

“Did I… did I do something weird?”

Oikawa cocked his head to his side. “Weird, as in…?”

“Y’know… weird as in- did I do something I wouldn’t normally do?”

Oikawa truly pondered at that, as he leaned against the kitchen table. He didn’t remember anything properly, did he? He pressed his finger to his lips, and said:

“Hm… you tried to balance a wooden spoon on your palm, even though you couldn’t. You-”

_You wondered why bad things only happened to good people._

_You opened up to me, let me see the rawest, most unnervingly real parts of you._

_You told me you wanted me to stay with you. You let me hold you, let me heal you._

_You made me fall in love with you even more._

“You- you didn’t do anything out of the ordinary. Don’t worry.” He smiled.

Iwaizumi turned around, blinking at him with bloodshot eyes once, and then twice. Once he was properly convinced, he expelled a grunt of acceptance.

Oikawa was back outside now, glad to feel the heat on his back instead of rain drops. As the honking of the early birds’ cars whizzed past him, he couldn’t help but wonder.  
Maybe he should have told him of all the things that happened that night, should have revealed all the secrets they had shared together, when the rain wouldn’t stop falling. Maybe he should have told him the truth back then.

His cell phone suddenly buzzed inside his pocket. When he slid it open, he saw a text message pop up in his notifications. Clicking it open, it said only one thing:

 **From: Iwa-chan;**  
_Thank you, Oikawa._

It was just an electronic message, nothing but a mere three words. But Oikawa could sense the sincerity in them. He could feel the honesty behind that message - and he couldn’t help but smile so bright he could have outshone the sun.

Maybe he could tell him the truth, even now. He could run back, fall to his knees, and declare his possibly unrequited love to him. He could end his silent pain himself.

But instead, he clutched his cellphone to his chest, and smiled again. _That’s for another time,_ he promised himself. _For now, this is enough_.

_This is more than enough._

**Author's Note:**

> I guess its never too late for some pining!iwaoi hahaha;;  
> This was a sort of writing experiment, so let me know how I did - I'm open for constructive criticism, too!
> 
> Until next time, take care ~


End file.
